Searching For Love On a Valentine

For love I combed mountains, hunted hills; valleys and plains yielded their cloaked corners. For love I probed men's hearts, pried beneath plastic smiles and painted faces. I found none. Up a hillock, on a rugged cross, hung a marred face stripped of clothing but a tiny loincloth that flapped in the wind. Sun and heat tanned him black. His head dropped; sweat dripped, blood crept from a gore. Who's this? The wind whispered: Jesus Christ. Why? He brought love to the world. Celestine S.? Ikwuamaesi (Feb 14/02/18)